A Certain Set of Skills
by JunieBee
Summary: SHIELD's finest decide they want a taste of a a certain playboy... but it might be a bit more than they can handle. M/M/M/F, slight dub-con initially. One-shot.


He'd been working twenty hours straight, and fighting for three or four of them. He was out of his time zone, and they'd carefully hidden anything caffeinated over the last hour and a half. Then they waited. They gave him most of the night- he did need the sleep, obviously- but when the clock started dawnward, they made their move.

Tasha went in first, silent and graceful as her namesake arachnid, slipping her silk around insensate, slender ankles and tethering them loosely to the bottom bedposts. Clint came in just after her, perching on the footboard until they could synchronize their attack – _and a-one, and a-two_ –

Tasha yanked the silk scarves and tied them taut, spreading and immobilizing Tony's legs. Clint shimmied up the billionaire's back in the same instant, his hands capturing agile wrists and bringing them around himself, where Tasha handcuffed them when she'd finished the knots at the bedposts.

And of course, milliseconds into this seconds-long operation, Tony woke up. As the Widow was sliding off the two men, he was jerking at the restraints "Wh- what- JAR-"

"Shh, buddy." Hawkeye crooned, running his hands between Tony's chest and the mattress. "You're on the helicarrier- no JARVIS. Just us."

Tony panted under him, no longer pulling spasmodically but flexing, testing his captivity methodically. "B-Barton? What are you doing?"

"We're doing _you_, Metalhead, isn't it obvious?" Clint chuckled, and pushed himself back until his knees were under him, forcing Tony's thighs even wider. He kept one hand on his friend's chest so Tony wasn't entirely suspended from his wrists while he raised himself up, and it also gave him an extra place to feel as Tony's breath caught.

So he knew Stark wasn't as calm as he sounded when he asked "Who's we?"

"SHIELD's finest." Natasha spoke, stepping into the light of the exposed arc reactor. "Comfortable, Stark?"

"Been worse." He squirmed, and Clint appreciated it. "Been better. Look, you guys can't just-"

"I think you'll find we can, Mr. Stark." Three heads swivelled to the corner of the room, where Agent Coulson sat with perfect dignity, as though he'd been there all along. Clint and Natasha didn't betray surprise- they were far too well trained for that.

"Coulson! You didn't tell us you wanted in!" Clint smiled. "Pull up a chair."

"Ex_cuse_ me-"

"He can have mine." Tasha offered, voice almost noticeably warmer.

"No he _can't_-"

"I'd hate to leave you wanting..." Coulson demurred.

"There's enough to go around." Clint assured him.

"Hey!" Tony shouted, irritated at being talked around. "I am not an entrée! I don't know where you get off-"

"I was thinking here." Barton interrupted, jabbing his erection against Tony's backside, prompting a gasp-and-shudder that was really just fantastic. He did it again.

"I'd planned on here." Natasha brushed pale fingers over Tony's stuttering mouth. She smirked when Tony couldn't _quite_ keep from tasting them- just a little. "But that's Phil's place, now. Can you sit him up?"

"Yup. Tash calls underbelly, hold tight everybody." Pushing up with one arm, Clint maneuvered himself into a kneel with Tony straddling his lap, legs splayed wide and leaning backwards into Clint's chest.

Tony's eyes darted everywhere they could, meeting Coulson's and the Widow's gazes as the two of them undressed. He yelped when Clint put slick fingers into his darker places. "You're really not gonna ask? Even once, just to check?"

Clint smiled against the ear he was nibbling. "Would you say no?" More fingers, more wriggling- all good things.

"I m-might..." Tony panted, petulant.

"Then we're not going to ask." Nat smiled.

"Your comments have been noted, Mr. Stark." Coulson assured him, climbing onto the bed to stand over the two kneeling men. Natasha followed after, curling her hands around his thighs as she knelt likewise behind him. "Now I'd like to address them directly."

"He means open up." Clint clarified, taking hold of Tony's jaw to force his mouth open and prompting an indignant growl.

"Now now, Agent Barton." Coulson scolded, putting a hand in Tony's hair and declining to take advantage. "I think we ought to give Mr. Stark a chance to cooperate." Tony jerked his face away from Clint's hand, scowling, and Clint's eyes widened. He lowered his arm to squeeze apologetically around Tony's middle. "Will you cooperate, Mr. Stark?"

The agent's hand rubbed soothingly along Tony's scalp and, though he suspected some manipulation at play, he sighed, slumping his shoulders as best he could. Then he looked up at Coulson and opened his mouth.

Coulson smiled faintly, brushing a thumb over Tony's cheekbone. "That's perfect."

Tony didn't respond, focusing on fitting Agent's member into his mouth, curling his tongue around it in welcome. He closed his eyes, taking inventory of the weight of it, the taste, every element of texture. He was the greatest engineering mind on the planet- no matter the machinery, he could learn it and make it work.

"Bozhe moi." Natasha breathed, taking in the utter prepossession on Tony's uptilted face, and the sooner-than-expected slack/strain on Phil's. "I may regret giving up my place."

"That's beautiful." Clint agreed. He licked Tony's jaw in reward, and pulled his fingers free of their tight heat. He lined himself up, waiting until Nat had climbed aboard as well, and together they pressed into and onto their sandwiched genius. The resultant muffled moan echoed into full-throatedness through Phil.

Clint gasped, biting into Tony's neck to ground himself as Stark pulsed and clenched around him, deliberate and apparently well-practiced in the science of pulling another man's brain out through his cock. "God- oh, God, Nat, you should- oh-"

"He's good, isn't he?" Tasha observed, watching her long-time partners with interest as she mostly saw to her own pleasures. There wasn't much Stark could do, pinioned as he was- he could barely move... anything she could see, at least. She caressed his face, his shoulders and chest while he did things with what she couldn't see. "Maybe I should get another turn with him on my own."

"Yeah." Clint grunted, and Phil echoed above him as the object of their discussion made a different noise around him.

"Mm-m." Tony tugged at the handcuffs.

A bit intimidated- the man was still working some sort of internal magic on him and Phil, and evidently he was _also_ working out a solution to Tasha's needs as well- he felt behind himself and unlocked Tony's hands.

Immediately, they came around and through Coulson's legs to find Tasha's breast and the curve of her waist, sliding downward and behind.

The Widow's breath hitched. Her rhythm hitched. Clint's eyes widened even as he shuddered, his hips working faster. "Jesus, how- Oh..." he wrapped his arms tighter around Tony's waist, nearly dragged to his completion.

"We need t-to clone him..." Phil groaned, his own thrusts speeding as well- the man's tongue was _inhuman_. "... for world pe-eeaace..."

Something like a laugh joined his dick in Tony's throat, and Phil cursed. Of course Stark was still listening, and he was going to be embarrassed about that comment as soon as it stopped seeming so very, very true.

oOo

"So, you're not human, are you?" Clint echoed the thought Coulson had briefly entertained, sprawled against the other three on Tony's SHIELD-issued mattress. Coulson made a mental note to get Stark a room with a king-sized bed from then on. "You're a genetic experiment or something. They made you in Frankenstein's bordello."

Tony gave a breathless laugh, eyes closed against the infiltrating sunlight from the window. 'King-sized bed, interior room.' Coulson amended.

"I learned astrophysics overnight when I needed to. You think I wouldn't put all the study I could into something I actually enjoy as much as sex? If it were an accredited discipline, I'd have, like, ten doctorates in it."

"You're in trouble now, though" Natasha said, having finally remembered how to speak in English.

Tony rubbed his sweaty hair over Clint's thigh to peer at her. "How am_ I_ in trouble? You all ambushed _me_."

"I believe Agent Romanoff is informing you of our incipient blackmail." Coulson clarified, propped against the headboard.

"Blackmail? What?"

"You say you're a playboy, but people don't _know_." Clint stated.

"How much do you want to bet you'd be kidnapped within twenty-four hours if we let out just what kind of sexual marvel you are?"

"You'd go from broom cupboard to broom cupboard. Every fangirl and boy would have their pockets full of roofies with your name on them." Tasha elaborated.

"Probably literally." Clint agreed.

"You'd never see the light of day again."

Tony finally flipped himself over, lying on his stomach and elbows to meet their perfectly serious gazes. "Okay. So what do you want in exchange for keeping my sex-god status to yourselves?"

Within a blink, Tony was stretched over the bed again, pinned hand, foot, and torso by three of SHIELD's most effective agents.

"I think we can agree on an arrangement."


End file.
